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Mila steers us along the strip of road illuminated only by the moonlight and stars above. Once, my parents took me to an amusement park. I’d seen roller coasters in movies and, burdened by no fears at the age of eight, was convinced I’d love them.
One ride later and I knew I was wrong.
At first, being on the bike is like that ride. My stomach convulses, and my heart tries to wiggle out of my mouth. All I can do is close my eyes and pray the trip ends without me splattered on the asphalt. Though, if it ended the ride instantly, it might not be the worst thing.
“Look,” Mila yells over the roar of the wind. “Over there!”
Peeking through the helmet’s visor, I search for what she’s referring to. Mila raises her arm and points. It’s impossible to miss the field of tiny lights that make up the city. They glimmer on the water hugs it along one side.
The docks stink like dead fish, but at this distance, I only smell salt.
The city I’ve known my whole life is shadowed by crime. It’s filthy from physical dirt and the thick stain of corruption. Here, though, gazing at it from the freedom of the bike, the city is beautiful.
I’ve never seen it like this. It’s remarkable … and it makes me forget my fear. The tickle of the thrill takes hold in my blood. Loosening my hold on Mila, I sit up, making sure I have a good view. I don’t want to miss a thing.
It’s not much longer before we zip around another curve. In a rush of buildings, we’re suddenly downtown. The familiar sight of the studio is up ahead. Part of me wants to see the damage from the shootout with my own eyes. Are there bullet shells still littered around? Are glass shards still scattered on the sidewalk?
No, it’s too dangerous. His men could see us. Before she gets close, I tap her on the shoulder. “Don’t park in front! He has security watching the place. There are cameras in the lobby too!”
Mila gives a curt nod. She pulls the bike behind the studio via one of the busted-up side-streets. Once she’s turned the engine off, I hop free, yanking the helmet off my head. I suck in familiar fetid air, my legs shaking as I make my way to the studio’s rear.
“I have a key,” I explain as I quickly unlock the alley door. “I don’t think Arsen was watching anything but the front. We should be able to get into the office without being spotted.”
“Look at you,” she chuckles. “You’re on your way to becoming a proper burglar.”
I cringe at her comment. “Please don’t call me that.”
“Got a problem with being a criminal?”
“A bit, yeah.”
“And yet you agreed to marry one,” she replies. “Oh, sorry, pretend married. Is that a crime? I’m not up to date on all the laws in this city.”
Shooting her a disapproving glare, I creep through the unlit hallway that leads to the cramped office space. It’s strange to be inside this place after so many weeks, and I’ve never seen it without the lights on.
“Don’t judge me. You work for him.”
“Yes, which makes me an expert on his particular bad behaviors.”
Something about how she phrases that causes my stomach to flip. I guess she does know him pretty well …
“How long have you worked for him?” I ask as we enter the office.
Mila follows me in, holding up her phone to use as a flashlight. The white beam glides over the disorganized space. Mom hasn’t done much to clean it up. I guess she doesn’t have to since it’s staying under our control.
“Now that I think about it,” she replies. “It’s been around ten years.”
I look at her in the dark, trying to discern her features. “I thought you were my age. No way you’ve been working for him since you were fourteen.”
“Life is funny like that, Galina Stepanovna,” she replies cryptically.
“Okay …” I say softly. She’s known him a lot longer than me. Suddenly my mind is racing with all the ways Mila and Arsen are better connected than he and I are. The experiences they’ve shared outnumber mine. And to top it all off, she’s gorgeous.
Talented, beautiful, and deadly. A total package.
Jealousy that I thought was reserved for Kristina washes up my spine. Hunching over a box, I dig through, barely looking at the details on the paperwork as I talk in a clipped tone. “He and you must be very close after all that time together.”
Mila snorts. The light bounces wildly off the walls. I glance up to see her covering her mouth with one arm, shaking enough that the phone is no longer being aimed.
